13 Second Chances
by awkwardhanb
Summary: This is a 13 Reasons Why alternate ending. Instead of Hannah actually being dead the entire time, she is really inside a dream-simulator and wakes up in the hospital knowing next to nothing.
1. Chapter 1: Waking Up to Normalcy

I woke up dazed and confused. I was strapped into a chair with a head brace, restraints on my wrists and ankles, and some machinery connected to my arms. I could barely make out the constant beeping of my heart beat on a monitor over the whirling noise of the machines around me. _Where was I? Am I really alive?_

I could feel the fresh trails of tears on my face. Flashes of Clay came rushing back to me. His blue eyes were more often than not filled with anger or tears of his own. Guilt filled me and my stomach dropped at the thought that I had been the cause of those tears and that hatred.

A door opened and I snapped my head up at the sound of it. A man who appeared to be a doctor came into the sterilized, odorless room. He neared, barely coming into focus in such a blindly-lit room.

"Ah, you're awake," he said. "Hannah, how do you feel?"

I hated his voice. He said my name with a sickeningly sweet pitch that made my skin crawl.

"Fine, I guess. This isn't exactly a five-star hotel as far as I can tell." I said half groggy and half cautiously. I had no idea who this guy was or why I was hooked up to some chair. I tried sitting up but noticed the tug of the needles at my arms. I glanced at them now, making me feel nauseous. The doctor could apparently read the ill-stricken expression on my face because the next thing I knew, he was pushing me back down onto the reclined chair.

"Now, now. There's no need to rush things," he said in a more soothing voice. Something felt off. This didn't seem right…the last thing I remembered was-

"I died," I stated. "I know I did. I felt it all. Everything felt so real." Flashes of the moment when I was cutting up my arms, blood consuming the bath water, staining everything a pink rose color hit me hard. "…how…. how am I here?"

The doctor looked at me with the hint of a smile, "you see Hannah, that's where you're wrong. You didn't die at all. In fact, none of what you remember right now was real. Well, except for a few parts." Now, his expression was unreadable as he pulled out a clipboard and clicked his pen.

"You still didn't answer my question. How am I _here_?" I nearly demanded. My head was starting to pound and this guy was infuriating. The heart monitor reflected my sudden annoyance and lack of patience. Ignoring my outburst, he started on what seemed like an incredibly long list of invasive questions.

"What was the first memory you have?" he blankly asked.

My first memory? Did I even know what was real anymore?

"Well, Dr. Monotone, it all started when I was a little girl and I didn't get that American girl doll that I wanted so badly…" I said dryly. No way I had to tell this lab coat anything. I didn't even know who I was dealing with.

"Fine. Let me restate the question. What was the first thing you remember while in the V.C.R?" he said with a hint of impatience.

"What you mean this thing?" I said trying to nod my head in the direction of the machine. "Wow, you need to work on your creativity. The name reminds me of my childhood and the Disney movies I'd watch."

"V.C.R. meaning 'Visual Corporeal Rehab'. Honestly, we should have looked at renaming it but it makes sense. It almost resembles a VCR that you would be familiar with." He looked down at his clipboard but made no attempts to ask another question. It seemed as if he was waiting for me to piece the whole thing together.

"So, you're saying that I'm in rehab? I don't remember having an addiction. I did have alcohol once though," I said. "Kind of illegally," I whispered. "Didn't think that would qualify me for an addiction."

"No, Hannah," he said with a sigh. "You're in rehab because your parents put you here."

Mom and Dad? His response sucked the sarcastic charm right out of me. How could they do this to me?

"My mom and dad put me through this? What exactly am I in rehab for?" I couldn't help but feel both curious and betrayed all at once.

He pulled up one of those special-doctor-rolly-chairs and sat down in a position that said "I've got some crappy news to tell you but you have to listen to it anyways". He looked at me for a moment as if telling me was a bad idea, but then decided to go ahead and tell me anyways. I tucked my hair behind my ear nervously, waiting for the crap to hit the fan.

"Your parents signed you up for our V.C.R program because they believed you were seriously depressed," he started to explain.

"Your monotone voice is making me seriously depressed at the moment. How about we talk about getting me out of these kinky restraints?" I said. _Nice snarkiness_ , I thought to myself as I gave myself a mental high-five until I actually looked down at the restraints and needles stuck in my arm like a sewing pin cushion. That's when I noticed the scars on my arms causing me to rethink my next comment. The scars looked like they had been painful and deep. They reminded me exactly of the ones I made in the V.C.R.

Dr. Monotone noticed where my gaze had landed and said, "your parents came home at the right time. You had gone through with your plan of suicide, but they were able to call in the paramedics. You were rushed here, to the hospital, and we managed to stabilize you. You had lost so much blood that it took weeks for you to recover. During your recovery, we discussed ways of helping you once you would be released from the hospital. That's where I brought up my life's work: the V.C.R. Granted, it was experimental, but your parents were willing to do whatever to help you. So here you are."

"Yup. I'm here. And stuck at that. Why can't I leave? I mean you've done the experiment and I'm awake now so I can just walk out of here, right?" Every part of me was already done and ready to take a long nap even though I'd just woken up.

"You can't. I have questions. This machine….this could help so many others just like you. I need you to stay," he begged me. Begging did NOT look attractive on this guy. What was in it for me anyways? Why did I have to stay for this crack-job?

"Why should I stay? Are you trying to propose to me or something? Dr. Monotone, I'm flattered but I've known you all of ten minutes. I don't want to hurt your feelings, but n-"

"ENOUGH," he yelled. Clearly I'd destroyed his patience. "Here's the thing: nobody besides your parents knows about your suicide attempt. We've managed to keep everything under wraps, including both sets of your pathetic tapes so that, when this whole experiment has been concluded, you can go back to a semi-normal life without the consequences. However, that's only if you _cooperate_." Dr. Monotone shifted on his chair and looked back down at his clipboard. Slightly shocked by his change in demeanor, I gulped and rethought poking at the grizzly bear.

"Alright," I said in a voice that indicated defeat. He should at least be convinced that I actually gave a care about my life after this twisted experience. Ah, there was the silly little word again: care. I'd given up the ability to do so a long time ago. Dr. Monotone looked up from his clipboard to me as if slightly amazed that it seemed I was willing to cooperate.

"But I need to know what experiment my parents signed me up for first." I said. I sounded reasonable enough. I mean, I was kind of stuck at the moment.

"Alright, that seems fair," he said. "The V.C.R. machine keeps you in a dream-like-state. Just like in a dream, everything can feel real as recalled from memory. The V.C.R. sets you in another reality: one without you in it. I honestly voted for the name 'What If I Could' machine or W.I.I.C for short. That's beside the point. What happened for you, Hannah, is the machine placed you in a reality that was centered on the idea of what if you had actually died. It showed you only one of the many possibilities where you died and how the people you left behind were affected."

A valid reason as to why there were tear stained paths running down my face. The reality of it all had been too much. One name kept resurfacing: Clay. That name physically hurt me as if my heart really did ache. It had to be that or else I was the youngest person to have a heart attack. Gahhh, there was that word again trying to worm its way into my heart: care. I thought I didn't care anymore, but yet…the name brought back with it so many beautiful memories it was hard not to. I tried to resist it and give in to the numbness, but my stupid heart still beat for those blue eyes and sweet half-smile.


	2. Chapter 2: The First Second Chance

"Hannah, are you still with me?" asked Dr. Monotone. I opened my eyes to look at him. I took a closer look at him this time to notice how much of a nerd he was with his thick glasses. He seemed like the type to carry around a calculator solely to feel the satisfaction and pride of owning one. _I shouldn't be judging this guy though. Look where that got me_ , I thought. In a chair. That's where it had gotten me.

"Yes," I sighed. "But if this is twenty-questions then you're already down to sixteen. Better make them count," I said with a smirk. Apparently, he was used to our bantering by now and returned my smirk with a small smile.

"Let me start with an easy one then. Who do you remember seeing while in the V.C.R?"

I had to think hard on that one. So many faces, but of course, most of them were the ones who had hurt me the most.

"I saw my mom, my dad, Jessica, Justin, Courtney, Zach, Tyler, Alex, Sheri, Mr. Porter, Marcus, Tony, Clay, and…" I couldn't say the rest. The last name hurt me in every way possible. If what happened with him had been real…. if what had been _done_ to me had been real what could I do now? I had already tried to tell Mr. Porter and was dismissed without any consideration to help me in the way I needed. I had tried reaching out and it didn't-

"Hannah," Dr. Monotone said gently. He had stopped writing since it seemed I wasn't giving him more of an answer. Concern etched across his pale face he asked, "why are you crying? Are the needles painful?"

"Uh…um…" I stammered, now back to reality. Without waiting for my answer, he walked over to my side and then hesitated, really taking in the gravity of my self-harm carved on my arms. He regained himself, took out all the needles as quickly as possible, and then unstrapped the restraints. We waited in awkward silence for what seemed like an eternity but may have only been a minute. Trying to break the awkward tension hanging in the air, I shouted, "FREEDOM! LIBERTY AT LAST!" as I pumped my fist in the air. I looked at Dr. Monotone and noticed a smile spreading across his face.

"Well, well, well Dr. Monotone. Did I manage to make you genuinely smile?" I asked.

"As a matter of fact, you did. A rare and incredible feet, I may add. Congratulations are in order, but first we must get back to the questions. I promise there aren't many more. Just remember if you feel uncomfortable answering a question, you don't have to." He looked up at me with a reassuring expression.

"Thank you," I managed to say. Showing appreciation sucked but it seemed like we were now on the same level.

"Okay, this may seem stupid, but on a scale of one to ten how would you rate each of the senses you experienced while in the simulation?"

"A solid ten for everything. Touch, smell, sound. It all just felt so real. In fact, I wasn't even sure if I had just been dreaming this," I gestured around the room.

"I'm flattered that I would be in your dream then," Dr. Monotone said with his ego reaching new heights. "Alright, the next question is an easy one. Who heard the tapes in the simulation?"

"At first, they made their way around to the people who were on them so Justin, Jessica, Alex, Courtney, Sheri, Zach, Tyler, Marcus, Tony, Clay, Mr. Porter, and even my parents. Heck, they even made it to people I don't even know but not to someone I had intended it for." I thought about it some more. The plan I had to leave those tapes, to make people feel guilty, as kind of a last curb-stomp to some people who deserved it. I intended for people to get what they deserved and feel guilty but would that even work on a guy like Bryce? Bryce was incapable of emotion, let alone guilt.

Good old Bryce. It was hard to imagine "good" and "Bryce" in the same sentence but there they were together. Most people would associate him with "good" and that's where most people would be wrong. It was because of his name that he was entitled to so much. It was also because of his sickening name that he felt entitled to things that would get other kids his age landed in jail. It was also his name that was his super-power: getting him out of any trouble or consequence that could damage the reputation of the precious family name. I had tried to imagine a few times what it would be like to have that kind of power but I couldn't lawyer my way out of my mistakes like he could. No, that was a God-given talent and I still had to face the music.

I fell back down to reality and looked over at Dr. Monotone who was still scribbling on his clipboard. He finished and looked up at me to say, "last question, Hannah. This will assess how ready you are to try the real world again. Why did you do it?"

Was this guy for real? I explained this on the tapes. There were plenty of reasons why I did it. There was the secrets, the bullying, the hatred, the lies, the rumors….horrible things had happened to me. There was so much that had happened to me. But if it really boiled down to one thing…then it was…

"Loneliness," I said. I sounded hollow and worn. So many people had left me alone. Jessica and Alex, the only real friends I had, had left me and slammed the door on me on their way out. My parents didn't even notice me as they were wrapped up in their store. Mr. Porter didn't even help me when I needed someone to believe me. Clay barely looked at me. I was. Alone. And dealing with the pain and hurt I had felt for so long alone was…unbearable. I composed myself. I could feel the walls rebuilding themselves around my heart. Just because Dr. Monotone and I had been getting along doesn't mean I should let him see me at my lowest. Who did this guy think he was asking me a question like that?

"Okay, Hannah, this is actually the last question: how did the previous question make you feel?" He looked up at me and quickly tensed.

"How do you think?" I snapped. "You knew perfectly well how that would make me feel. Didn't you listen to the tapes? Do you have any idea what I went through?" I was breathing heavily now. Pain radiated from both my hands where I had apparently been clenching my fists. Blood started to seep out of the small, nail-shaped indents in my palms.

Dr. Monotone looked at the anger I had cut into my palms and calmly got out some bandages for both my hands. He said nothing as he wrapped my hands carefully, giving me time to simmer down. There was an eternity of silence until finally I turned to him and asked, "why did you ask me that?"

He paused for a moment, admiring his bandaging skills, seeming as if he didn't even notice I had asked him a question. Sighing, he stood up and, taking his time, started walking towards the door. Before he opened it, he turned around and looked directly at me. His gaze was gentle, as if he was trying to comfort me with it.

"Because, Hannah, if you had said you had felt nothing, then I would have had to put you back in there, again."


	3. Chapter 3: I Won't Lose Her

The words had been said. It was too late to take them back. I wanted so desperately to take my hand and magically shove those words back down my throat, but I couldn't. She looked like she wanted to kill me. There was fear and hatred in her eyes. I guess it was okay I could see those emotions boiling in her eyes. Many times, I had pulled her out of that machine and it seemed as if every time she woke, her eyes faded that much more.

That whole idea about the eyes being the gateway to the soul, I believe that. Hannah's eyes contained every emotion she felt and it was easy to tell when she felt pain. It was honestly a God-given miracle to see anything but that hollow look in her eyes. I wanted to stop that pain so much that I'd lost track of my humanity. Look at me, so attached and disregarding everything my colleagues had told me. I agree that one person can change your life so much.

Just look at how Hannah Baker had changed mine.

"Greg!" yelled Megan. "We're losing her!"

Time seemed to almost stand still. There was so much blood and she looked so pale. I had seen countless other patients come into the ER. Most of them left in body bags.

It was hard to keep up with it all. See, death was a tricky subject in the hospital among doctors, especially in the ER. We had all seen the reaper at some point just suck the life out of a patient lying on a bed. By association, it seemed to suck the life out of us, too. I had come into this hospital all hopped up on that determination to help others and save lives. Yet, slowly it seemed, that same determination had faded and been replaced with the mere instinct to simply survive.

You see, we all have a tragic back story or some push that drove us to want to help others. Most stories start with the feeling of helplessness when someone you care about gets hurt. Mine happened to be the moment my mother decided life just wasn't worth living anymore. I was fourteen years old and life already seemed pretty awful. My body was betraying me, my grades were awful, and I was one of the "floaters" in school who didn't have a best friend. One night, after a long day's work in the fast food biz, I came home to a silent house. I was used to this, having to work late shifts where Mom would fall asleep first, but this night seemed impossibly quieter. I looked down at my grease-stained uniform. I walked into the bathroom to wash off the grease coating my skin in the shower when I found her.

"MOM!" I yelled. I was so confused and scared. She was pale and her eyes were so hollow looking. Gashes of red made their way down her arms. I had looked around the bathroom frantically trying to find a towel to stop the bleeding. I found one and started to wrap her arm in it, the light blue color of the towel slowly turning a deep red and brown.

"Gregory," she said faintly. She looked up at me with those hollow, faded-blue eyes that tore my heart. "This isn't your fault. Don't blame yourself, honey."

"No Mom," I fumbled for the phone in my pocket and shakily dialed 911. "I'm not going to lose you." I chanted it over and over again, even when she stopped breathing.

I could hear the far cry of an ambulance. Red and blue lights danced across the floor coming in from the window as the medics slowly walked out with her body and I sat still chanting that same phrase.

I wasn't going to lose her.

 _I wasn't going to lose her._ I kept chanting that. This girl's hollow, faded-blue eyes struck my heart in a way I wasn't expecting. The deep gashes up her arms cut into my heart and made me sick. It reminded me all too much of my Mom.

It wasn't my fault what happened to this girl and it may not have been my fault that my mother died. But I was going to do something about it this time. I wasn't going to lose this one. Not Hannah.

Hannah's cuts were glued closed and her bleeding had stopped. She had lost an ungodly amount of blood so all we had to do now was supply her with more and keep her heart pumping. It seemed simple enough. Her vitals had seemed normal for a couple of days until one day when she went into sudden cardiac arrest.

I looked over at Megan who was trying desperately to keep Hannah here. I grabbed the defibrillator. I placed both paddles down on her chest and watched as an electric pulse tensed the muscles in her body.

 _I wasn't going to lose her._

"Again!" commanded Megan. Both paddles were charged and let out a shock.

 _I wasn't going to lose her._

Hannah's whole body tensed again. Nothing. I was ready to give up when suddenly her heart beat was back to normal. I sighed. Megan and I both looked up at each other with a smile on our faces knowing at least one life had been saved tonight. I looked back down at Hannah and could only see my Mom. I couldn't save her, but at least Hannah could be saved. That's when the real work began for the machine. I worked on it for weeks on end, not knowing the definition of sleep. Finally, I had built a machine that could save people from their horrible realities and thoughts by showing them one without them in it. I knew it could really work and I had a perfect first patient. I glanced over at her from the doorway. Color was coming back to her skin but she looked as if she didn't care that her heart was beating again. I turned my attention back to Mrs. Baker.

"I know you have a way to help my daughter," she said. She looked worn but surprisingly hopeful. "I've researched you Dr. Michaels. I didn't have to do much digging in the way of it. You had a major grant given to you for your research and even though it's only experimental, I would like my daughter to be a test subject."

"Well, she is a minor so I would need both you and your husband's consent," I said. I could see the desperation in her eyes.

"That won't be a problem," she said. "I know Andy will agree to this. We both just want our daughter back." She choked on the last word as she was starting to cry again.

"I'll get the paperwork, Mrs. Baker. You're both good parents for wanting to do this. Don't worry, she'll be alright. She's alive now and that's all that matters for the time being." I glanced over at the hospital bed where Hannah was.

 _I won't lose her._


End file.
